


To the Altar

by teaandchess



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Season/Series 06, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 09:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/759665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandchess/pseuds/teaandchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Caged Heat. Castiel tries to pray for guidance from an absent father. But the church is far from empty of sin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Altar

**To the Altar**

    The old church in the poorer section of the city was quiet and still, offering a solace that Castiel could not find anywhere nearby. Embattled and frustrated, he sat in one of the pews and bowed his head. He knew every prayer by heart, in a thousand of languages, but he could think of none to help. None to give him even a false sense of relief.  
    He had just deceived his human friends… in truth his only friends now, and the weight of that almost crumpled him down.   
    How many more lies did he have to let spill from his lips before he was caught?  
    “What more do you need me to do?” he asked. “I need something more than free will to keep me going. I need… something.”  
    The hallowed grounds shook underneath the pews but he ignored it. What he had always mistaken for a sign from God was often no more than his own imagination. He had several hours before they would expect him back in Heaven to lead another battle; the precious time he could spend wallowing in anger and sadness.  
 _Click-Clack-Click-Clack._  
    “Let me see if I can remember this right.”  
    The sound of footsteps didn’t make him lift his head but the slow drawl of a feminine voice made every muscle in his body tighten up in awareness. He didn’t like that he knew that voice and especially didn’t like the way his body reacted when it slid into his ears and drifted down his veins until it surged through him and dropped back to the bottom of his stomach. Like a tangible object, it rested there; a tiny unsettled feeling of apprehension that an angel should never have.  
    “Soul of Christ, make me most unholy. Body of Christ, be my yummy crunch bread to dip in the Blood of Christ, and I’ll just slurp all that wine.”  
    The slow strides she was making brought her even with his pew but she wasn’t looking at him when he glanced over. Meg. The demon who only hours before he’d pressed against a wall and kissed to see if that sensation of release could come to him as easily as it did to humans in the heat of battle.  
    The fact that it had and yet hadn’t lasted bit into him.  
    Her blasphemous parody of a prayer ended with a “Hell Mary,” and he only stared.  
    Meg smirked at the altar just before her and rolled her shoulders back a little to seem taller in the overshadow of the high ceilings. “What is with the Church always being so grotesque in their colour schemes?”  
    She lifted her hand and immediately one of the candelabras flared to life while the lights overhead dimmed a little more. The light softened her demonic face underneath its flesh mask and Castiel stared at her hard when she turned towards him. Fine white teeth glinted in the shadows while a dark brow arched.  
    “You look like Hell. Monster genocide wipe you out?” she asked as if genuinely concerned. There was just enough of a lilt in her honeyed words for him to know she was being sarcastic and he sat back in the pew, the smooth wood backing making it slippery to lean on.  
    “What are you doing here, Abomination?” he demanded, glaring at her and Meg laughed low.  
    “Oh, baby, you and I are way past formalities.” She took a few steps forward and walked around the church dais. Picking at the white cloth covering the altar, she leaned her elbows on it and peeked at him from under her sooty lashes. “Nearly first name moaning basis I’d say, Castiel.”  
    The way she curved her tongue around the nuances of his name sent a cold shiver up his spine that he dismissed as revulsion. “I don’t see how.”  
    Meg saw his reaction and crooked her head to the side. “I think that having one’s tongue halfway down your throat tends to sort of drop that ‘Righteous Prick, Abomination’ name calling.”  
    “What that was meaningless,” Castiel ground out in irritation as he stood from the pew and approached her. The sheer sacrilegious posture Meg took as she folded her hands into a steeple before her made him grind his teeth together.  
    “You say meaningless, I say you enjoyed it more than you should have.”  
    “I won’t repeat myself again.” Castiel took the final steps up the dais and stared at her over the altar. “Why are you here?”  
    Meg looked up at him impishly. “I’m feeling some hostility, pretty boy.”  
    “I’ve had enough deals with demons in the past to bother with you,” he snapped without thinking and Meg’s smirk faded to a tense look.  
    “I knew it.” She tapped her finger on the white cloth. “Crowley’s death did seem to be good to be true.”  
    Castiel stiffened. “How did you know?”  
    “Demon, angel. I have my ways.” Her red lips curved in a mocking smile. “What will your Righteous Man and his Soulless Gigantor say when they learn?”  
    “You will say nothing about it.”   
    Out of nowhere, a silver blade slid from Meg’s sleeve down to her hand and obscenely she lifted it to play at her lips. “Make me.”  
    He only glared at her. “That’s mine.”  
    “Finders keepers, Clarence.” She shook her head. “Unless you can think of an incentive for me to give it back.”  
    “I would think my not killing you immediately would convince you,” Castiel said and he held out his hand impatiently.   
    “Let’s see.” Meg tapped the blade against her chin as if he hadn’t spoken. “I know about Crowley, I have your angel sword, and I’m sure if I prayed just right, your dear Raphael would be down here in a flash.”  
    The angel lowered his hand and her dark eyes sparkled in laughter.  
    “We’re going to be good friends, Castiel. I need something from you and you need something from me.”  
    “I need nothing…”  
    “Silence costs a lot.”  
    Blue eyes locked on her, shimmering like twin storms threatening to explode out of him to incinerate her. “Are you blackmailing me?”  
    “Why not?” She pointed at her own chest. “I am a demon and I’m an opportunist. I’m about to have Crowley on my ass and it’s your fault.”  
    “How exactly am I going to help you?” Castiel tapped his fingers just across from hers on the altar, feeling the itch of his Grace. “I could smite you here.”  
    “You won’t.” Meg’s free hand slid along the table and she just touched his fingers, the tips of them sending a current of contact between them. “Because whether you like it or not, we got some… interesting chemistry.”  
    The implication was obvious and he wasn’t really certain why this demon, who hated angels and who likely had good cause to hate him personally, would be interested in him.  
    Or why he was even considering….  
    “You’re repulsive to me,” he snarled instead, spitting the words out with just enough venom that a human would have flinched.  
    Meg only arched a dark brow and grinned. “And you think you are pretty pickings there? Just one big ball of shining light underneath that human skin and if I was hard up to fuck a firefly I’d be into insects.”  
    Castiel bristled, a little insulted and embarrassed. He was proud of his light and this creature mocked it. “You and I will never…” he stumbled over the crude word, “fuck.”  
    “Never say never.” She stepped forward into the altar and eyed him up and down. “I said hard up… but I don’t think I’d say never.”  
    “Only a demon would suggest such blasphemy,” he spat out, turning away from her.  
    Her drawl stopped him, “And only an angel would say no when he really wants to say yes. Such a good little soldier to obey his daddy still even when he is so close to wanting to lust and sin.”  
    He looked over his shoulder at her and Meg straightened a little. Anger and annoyance warred and eventually he made his way back to her. Before she could back off, he lashed out and grabbed her by her throat, hauling her over the altar into him.  
    “You will be silent or I will kill you.”  
    “No,” Meg said confidently though her voice was low and her lip quivered just a touch for it to nearly be endearing, “you won’t.”  
    Spinning her around, he slapped his hand onto her forehead but as he fought to find the cusp of his power Meg just tilted her head and stared up at him. He could just feel her breath on his chin, see the tiny iris blown black in the dim candlelight with the flames casting an orange glow to her pale skin, and uncomfortably he was reminded of the first time they’d met.  
    He slid his hand down, letting it linger for a second too long against her hair line.  
    The demon still didn’t flinch. “How far have you fallen?” she asked huskily and he felt the prick of his angel sword being pressed against his side. “Too far?”  
    Castiel couldn’t bring himself to recoil backwards when her tongue flicked out and just grazed his pulse point.  
    “Or not far enough?”  
    Their eyes locked and he let her throat go slowly, feeling and seeing the imprint and bruises he’d left on her skin.  
    “Cute,” Meg said, rubbing at her throat experimentally and he watched the way it shifted her delicate skin back and forth. Her other hand lowered the blade away from him. “So. At a standstill. What are we gonna do here, handsome?”   
    “There is nothing to do.” His fingers flexed at his side.  
    “You want to kill me so bad you can taste it.” Those eyes flicked over his entire body up close and the angel wasn’t sure what to feel. “Or you want to do something else to me that would be a sin on both our sides. Which is it?”      
    Flustered, he looked away from her and Meg slid her hand up his side. He felt the cold pressure of her hand on his ribs and instead of the revulsion he’d felt earlier he felt a phantom heat climbing.  
    Their lips just brushed, the contact too light to be called a kiss, and he closed his eyes half-way. “I fail to see why I would want this with you.”  
    “Because.” She reached down and fiddled with the leather of his belt. “If you use a human to drive out all this anger and despair, you’ll break them. Me?”  
    She tugged hard and he stumbled into her so that they pressed back into the altar, nose just brushing her hairline.   
    “I want that rage. We both need to feel…” she paused as if searching for the word, “something.” The belt jingled as it slid apart under her hands. “And I won’t break.”  
    She tilted her head a little on the side and Castiel watched her impassively, feeling her fingers on his waistband. Meg’s eyes slid over him.   
    “Or you could just walk away.”  
    “So could you,” he muttered. “I could still kill you.”  
    “I could still kill you too.” Her grin was almost contagious. “I’m a soldier, Clarence. I don’t back down from a challenge.”  
    Once again, his hand slipped around her throat but this time to bury his fingers in the dark tresses only hours before he’d felt. He pulled hard and heard her gasp when once again he nearly yanked her off her feet.   
    Meg stared up at his hooded gaze and shuddered.   
    “Good, so long as we are clear,” he muttered before lowering his head and pressing a bruising kiss to her lips that promised violence and sealed the unspoken deal they’d struck.


End file.
